Crockett's Seduction Page 4

He scowled at his brother’s names. “You’re doing this for Last.”

  “I would like to do something for him,” Valentine admitted. “I think he would enjoy being celebrated as a father. He has really been good to Annette.”

  He guessed late was better than never. “Have you mentioned this party idea to Mason?”

  “Not yet. I thought I’d speak to you first.”

  “Why me? I’m not a father.” A fact he hated to admit, for some reason. Why wasn’t he a father? Because he hadn’t gone on a hootenanny and gotten someone pregnant as Last had, he supposed. But that route to fatherhood seemed unappealing when there were other ways.

  Like with Valentine.

  The thought swept over him before he could stop it. Valentine made beautiful babies; she made beautiful everything.

  “I like to talk to you about whatever’s on my mind,” she said simply. “You’re reasonable.”

  Reasonable was the last thing he was feeling. “I’m not a father,” he repeated, “but it sounds like something my brothers, at least, would enjoy. Can I come if I’m not a father?”

  She looked at him. “Why do you keep saying that?”

  “I don’t know. It could be bothering me.”

  They stared at each other for a long time, and the silence felt awkward.

  “Do you want to be a father?” Valentine asked softly.

  Crockett eased back on his stool. “You seem happy being a parent.”

  She smiled. “Yes, I love being a mother. But I am a parent of one. I’m not having any more children, so the burden doesn’t seem overly large.”

  His brows rose, and an uncomfortable feeling lodged in his stomach. “You’re never having any more kids?”

  She shrugged. “I’m a single mother. It’s rewarding, but enough of a struggle that I know I don’t plan on having more children.”

  “I think Annette would like a little brother to drag around.”

  “I think she has plenty of people wrapped in the crook of her finger.” She sat down across from him. “So about the party.”

  “Yeah,” Crockett said reluctantly, realizing he wouldn’t enjoy watching his brother get kudos for being a dad. “Sounds like a real wingding.”

  He scratched his head. His brain disliked the notion of Valentine not having more children. It didn’t sit right with him. Why? He drummed his fingers, then cracked his knuckles—and then it hit him.

  He really wanted a child.

  He rolled the very foreign thought around in his mind again. Prickles ran across his scalp. Valentine eyed him with a concerned gaze.

  “Are you all right? You’ve gone quite pale.” She moved closer to examine him. She smelled fresh. “No, you’re definitely pale. Crockett, is something wrong?”

  Well, hell, yeah. He wanted a baby. He wanted a baby, more specifically, with her, the last person on earth he should be thinking about.

  Yeah, something was very definitely out of whack. He was all screwed up. “I need to be alone.”

  “Oh.” Valentine pulled away from him. “All right.” She walked across to the ladder before turning to say, “So you think it would be all right to approach Mason about the belated Father’s Day picnic?”

  “Yeah. Sure.” He returned his gaze to the lump in front of him. With a sigh, he designated himself an oaf and told himself not to abuse Valentine’s kindness. “Hey, he’ll probably be all over it.”

  Valentine smiled. “Thanks, Crockett.”

  “Bye.”

  She waved and headed downstairs. He told his baby thoughts and the rise in his Levi’s that always seemed to accompany Valentine to be gone. Snatching the clay from its mooring, he reviewed it. He would start out small and see where it would go.

  A COUPLE OF HOURS LATER he had a rounded booty that was completely Valentine. Okay, so he still needed to work on the rest of the body, but the reclining piece had legs that flowed sweetly into a curving backside. The knees lay against each other in a position that was feminine and yet somehow sexual.

  He liked the feeling of clay between his fingers, he decided, and the satisfaction of creating something from mere dirt. “Sweet,” he said. “Not too shabby for a beginner.”

  Beyond the curving posterior, he needed a torso and head. But he’d think about that later. For now, the piece that had been teasing his brain was complete.

  He covered his artwork and headed down the stairs. His passion had finally been lit again. His creativity was stoked after many months of lying quiet, like a banked fire. This could not be taken from him. None of his brothers sculpted. If he moved his lair somewhere else, everything would be perfect. He could work in total peace and quiet, without his brothers’ do-drop-in interruptions.

  Speaking of interruptions… He was almost out the door when he saw Last waving at him. “Great,” he said, “here comes Mr. Father’s Day himself.”

  Last jogged over and gave Crockett a pop on the arm. “Where have you been?”

  “In none-of-your-business-land,” Crockett said pointedly. “Are you writing a book?”

  “No. Do you have a second?”

  “Is it a second in real time, or Last time?”

  “Real time.” Last looked at him. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I don’t know what got into me.”

  Crockett sighed. “You’re forgiven.”

  “I know you mean the best for Annette and Valentine. I shouldn’t have gotten weird.”

  “Whatever. Thanks.”

  “Okay.” Last perked up. “Brothers?”

  “Brothers.” They pounded each other on the back once, then Crockett headed off. He could understand what Last meant about being weird about Valentine. Even after sculpting her curves, Crockett was having a hard time forgetting about her.

  “Uncle Crockett! Uncle Crockett!”

  Kenny and Minnie ran over to him. “How’s my best kids?”

  They hugged him, and the tension he’d been feeling melted away.

  “We’re good. We want to go to town. Can you give us a ride?”

  “Where’s your father?” Crockett asked. He was being wooed for something for sure.

  “Painting something,” Minnie said. “We need to run an errand for Mom.”

  In the distance, he could see Olivia working Gypsy. Barley stood nearby, leaning against the post, every once in a while gesturing some instruction. Next to Barley was Mimi’s father. Now that the sheriff was on the mend, Barley dragged him out to the ranch from time to time.

  “Your mother doesn’t have any idea you’re trying to weasel a ride into town,” Crockett said. “So what’s up?”

  “We want a cookie,” Kenny said. “And we want to go to the hair salon. We heard that Ms. Lily adopted a stray.”

  Crockett sighed. Strays and cookies on a warm summer day. “I can play hooky for a bit,” he said. “Load up.”

  “Yippee!” They ran off to tell Olivia where they were going, and Crockett headed to his truck.

  Actually, a cookie sounded good—if it was from Baked Valentines.

  VALENTINE WAS SURPRISED when Crockett walked into the bakery with Kenny and Minnie. He was tall and handsome, and the kids loved him, and the whole scene—of a big cowboy corralling constantly moving kids—made her smile.

  She loved living in Union Junction. She adored being part of the Jefferson family, even if it was an extended part.

  “What’s up, Crockett?” Valentine asked with a smile.

  “They dragged me into town for a cookie.” He leaned against a wall while the kids stared eagerly into the glass case. “You painted this place.”

  “I did.” Valentine was pleased he’d noticed.

  “I like the soft blue,” he said, glancing around approvingly.

  She smiled. Of course Crockett would notice everything. He was supposedly a wonderful artist. “And I wallpapered the bathroom and back of the store with a pretty blueberry and lemon design. Very French kitchen.”

  “When do you find time for everything you do?”

  V
alentine smiled. “When Annette naps.”

  He looked at her, remembering how the brothers had doubted her at one time. It just went to show that anybody who wanted to make something of themselves could, if they were given a helping hand at the right time.

  She certainly had made her mark on Union Junction.

  Kenny and Minnie selected cookies, a frosted rose for Minnie and a powdered chocolate crinkle for Kenny.

  “Thank you, Aunt Valentine,” they said, scurrying across the street to the Union Junction beauty salon where Lily, her host of stylists and the new stray resided.

  “That was sweet of you to bring them to town,” Valentine said.

  “I was shanghaied.”

  “Sure.” She laughed. “Cookie?”

  “Nah. I don’t eat many sweets.”

  “Crockett! All you Jeffersons eat a ton of sweets!”

  He grunted, looking around at the empty shop. Every white-painted table in the room seemed to have napkins and cups on it. “Break in the action?”

  “Yes.” She closed a cabinet and straightened. “If you’d been here five minutes ago, you would have seen half the town. I ran a sale for charity between eleven and twelve. All donations go to the pet adoption center Lily has decided to open.”

  “Good cause.” He tossed some money into the jar he now saw on the counter. It was stuffed full of bills. “Nice haul.”

  Valentine beamed. “Everybody wants good homes for pets. Thankfully, Lily decided it was a project she could handle.”

  “Glad I missed the crowd.”

  “Come back and see the wallpaper.”

  He didn’t care about wallpaper, but he willingly followed Valentine. “You did this yourself?” he asked, staring up at the scalloped edges neatly encircling the room. Sunny lemons and blueberries decorated the French vanilla-colored walls. “Cheery.”

  “Thank you. I’m very proud of it.” Touching his arm, she said, “I want you to tell your brothers that I’m taking good care of their investment.”

  “Oh, hell, I don’t think they care—Valentine, everybody’s just happy that you’re happy. You bring something special to the ranch, and we were glad to give you a start. I’m proud of you.”

  She smiled at him. “But I don’t think you know what it means to be given a chance.” How could she explain? Her destiny was in her own hands now; her talent was her future—because of their faith.

  “I’d like a chance,” Crockett said.

  She looked at him. “At what?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe you.”

  “Oh.” Was he saying what she thought he was? “I don’t think so.”

  “Because it’s a bad idea?”

  “Yeah. A very bad idea. I’m sure of it.” Valentine shook her head. “I don’t want to ruin what I’ve got at Malfunction Junction.”

  “Okay.”

  Uneasy silence surrounded them. In her mind, Valentine knew she’d said the right thing, but what about her heart? “It’s probably not a good idea to say this, but there are times I have thought about you.”

  He leaned closer to hear her soft voice as it trailed off. “I respect that you need your life to stay calm. You’ve been through a lot. My brother hasn’t treated you as well as he should have.”

  Valentine held her breath. “He’s not you.”

  Crockett seemed taken aback for a moment, then he only nodded and touched her cheek.

  He wasn’t going to do more, Valentine realized, and the fact that she had to make the first move gave her the strength to do it. There was no hurry, it was just the two of them in a quiet bakery. He watched her through dark, curious eyes and Valentine rose on her toes, lightly brushing her lips against his.

  Then she waited, watching his expression. What would she see in his gaze?

  He pulled away silently. Then he took the chocolate frosting spoon lying on the table and brushed it across her lips.

  He licked her mouth clean, kissing her as she had never been kissed. Valentine’s knees went weak, her blood thundered and tears sprang into her eyes. His touch felt so good! Nothing had ever felt so perfect.

  She was surprised when Crockett stepped away from her. “I can’t—” he said.

  “What?” she asked softly.

  “I shouldn’t have done that,” he said. “I may not be so different from my brother after all.”

  He walked out of the bakery. The tinkle of the bells on the door let her know he had gone. Valentine touched her lips in wonder. Maybe he regretted their kiss, but she certainly didn’t. Crockett kissed like a dream.

  Of course, he had frosted her. And what woman could resist being a lickable treat?

  Her gaze fell on the pastry board across the room.

  A new, exciting, almost shameless idea blossomed in her mind.

  “WERE YOU EATING CAKE, Uncle Crockett? Did you bring us some?” Minnie asked as they sat in the truck.

  Crockett frowned. He had been hungry for something, and it wasn’t cake. “No. Why?”

  “You have chocolate on your face,” Kenny observed. “Right on your mouth.”

  Crockett cleared his throat. “I might have tried a little something sweet,” he said.

  “Valentine bakes real well, doesn’t she?” Minnie asked. “Dad says if Last was smart, he’d ask Valentine to marry him.”

  “What?” Crockett cleaned off his mouth with a handkerchief.

  “I hope he doesn’t,” Kenny said. “I don’t want Valentine to have to stay home and have more babies. I mean, I like Annette, but Valentine bakes my favorite things. Even Mom says it’s worth a drive to town just to say hello to Valentine and see what she’s got in the oven. We keep a special jar of change marked Valentine’s.”

  Crockett was astonished by Calhoun’s suggestion that Last should marry his one-night flame. It just showed how crazy Crockett had been to kiss Valentine. He had a funny feeling no one in his family would think him romancing the tempting little baker was a good thing.

  “I don’t even like chocolate,” he said.

  “Then why did you eat it?” Minnie asked curiously.

  “Because it tempted me,” he said. “But I’m giving myself a deadline for getting over it.”

  “What’s a deadline?” Kenny asked.

  “It means doing something by a certain time.”

  And he planned to get Valentine off his mind by the time her Father’s Day picnic rolled around. He had just about one month.

  Chapter Five

  “You have chocolate on your face,” Mason said when Crockett walked into the house.

  “Still?” Crockett took a look in the hallway mirror and rubbed at his face again, this time removing all traces of the kiss he and Valentine had shared. “That stuff has staying power.”

  “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t had time to sit around and eat bonbons lately.”

  “Shut up, Mason, you ol’ sourpuss. You had your chance at frosting.” That’s when Crockett saw the note beside the phone. “Need cowboys for charity rodeo.” He glanced up. “Marvella is giving to charity?”

  Marvella was the owner of the Never Lonely Cut-n-Gurls salon in the nearby town of Lonely Hearts Station, Texas. Over time, the Jefferson brothers’ relationship with her had grown difficult. They were friends with her sister, Delilah, who owned a rival salon across the street from Marvella’s. The two salons—and the two sisters—battled constantly, for customers, for stylists, for any imagined infraction. And Marvella had never been known for her charity.

  Valentine had been working for Marvella when she’d first met Last. It had been Marvella’s idea—and her threats—that had convinced Valentine to begin the paternity lawsuit against Last. Luckily, Valentine came to her senses before any damage was done, and she’d been more than happy to leave her work as a stylist at the Never Lonely Cut-n-Gurls salon for the world of baked goods.

  “Yeah,” Mason answered. “Delilah’s got Marvella on a do-good kick, and it seems to be softening the old girl up. Gotta reinforce that when we can
.”

  Crockett scowled. “Are you going?”

  “Probably. It’s good for us to do charity work. Besides, I haven’t rodeo’d in a while.”

  He’d been too busy chasing the elusive Maverick and chewing off his brothers’ heads. Crockett shrugged. “I guess I’m game if everybody else is.”

  “So…” Mason said, coming into the kitchen. “Speaking of Marvella, a little birdie told me you might be developing a soft spot for one of her ex-employees, Valentine.”

  “Not really,” Crockett said, “but damn that birdie. What is the location of its nest so I can teach it not to idly gossip?”

  Mason held up a hand. “Don’t go off all hotheaded. It was purely speculation.”

  Since Jeffersons speculated on each other’s business, it was hard to say “butt out.” Crockett sighed. “I took Olivia’s kids into town, and now I’m behind on my chores. See ya.”

  But before he could leave Mason looked at him funny. “You know, it would probably be a good thing if you went to visit Delilah, maybe stayed in Lonely Hearts Station for a few days.”

  “What the hell?” Crockett was totally annoyed. “Because of some little birdie?”

  “No, because Last isn’t sure how he feels about the whole thing.”

  “There is no thing,” Crockett said grimly. “If there were, you’d be the first to know, I’m sure, because Last would come telling tales to big brother. Besides, I don’t know why a thing would be a problem since Last treats Valentine like leftover soup most of the time.”

  “That’s between the two of them.” Mason’s tone was stern, and Crockett felt his blood hit slow boil.

  “There is no them.”

  “Rome wasn’t built in a day.”

  “Yeah? So you’re saying that, given time, there might be a them?” A tiny bit of guilt and a whole lot of jealousy crept up on Crockett. So he tried to change the subject. “There’s been plenty of time for you and Mimi, but maybe some Romes never get built.”

  Mason frowned. “I signed you up to ride a bull for Delilah’s salon, Bloodthirsty Black.”

  “What?” Crockett stared at his brother. As good as most of them were at rodeo, none of them had been able to stay on Delilah’s beast, which had finally won his registration as a bounty bull. “Last whines to you about me so you register me for an ass kicking? Don’t you think it’s time you realize the baby of the family is all grown-up, Mason? You don’t have to protect Last anymore. He’s quite capable of handling himself.”